The Spirit of Poetry transports me
To the shapeless region where I spend long hours, motionless
In the silence before the Creation of thing, terrifying.
Suddenly I extend my right arm into space and everything incarnates.

The fresh dung of voluptuousness warms the earth.
The fish germinate in the vastness of ocean.
The crowds rush to the public square.

Brothels and churches, lying-I hospitals and cemeteries
Stand up in air for Good and for Evil.

The diverse characters that I have encompassed
Separate from one another and found a community
Where I preside, now sad, now gay.

I am not God because I depart for Him.
I am a god because they depart for me.
We are all gods because we depart for one single end.